Without Ron
by cruciyo
Summary: AU: When Ron stormed out of the tent after a furious argument with Harry, he left everything behind him, including his two best friends. With no intentions of returning at all, Hermione and Harry have to learn to cope without their red-haired companion.
1. After the departure

A/N: A few alterations from the book

The departure of Harry's best friend had hit the poor boy very hard. There had only been brief moments in Harry's life when Ron hadn't been there for him, but each of those times it had later been resolved with ease. However, as much as Harry tried to figure out a solution, he soon realised that Ron was gone, with no absolutely way of returning.

How could he return? To ensure their safety, Harry and Hermione always cast dozens of protective spells around their tent so nobody stumbled upon them, including Ron. The red-head could be, miraculously, stood three yards away from said tent, but would be incapable of seeing, hearing, touching or even smelling them. It was a hard concept to grasp, that Harry had lost his best friend for what seemed like forever.

The loss had deeply affected Hermione also. What was once a thoughtful, bright and logical girl was now a mess of heart-break and self-pity. Every morning she would slump out of bed, hair untidy and eyes puffy as ever, as though she had wept throughout the entire night. Although the evidently tried her best to muffle her sobs, Harry couldn't help but hear her occasional cry. Every time he did, he felt a bizarre urge to wrap his arms around her and sleep by her side.

In truth, he felt lost. With Hermione so traumatized, the burden of finding the sword had fallen entirely onto his lap. He wanted to reassure Hermione, to help her, to make her feel better, but he couldn't comfort another person when he was troubled by the exact same problem. So he left her on her own, humoured her far-fetched and half-hearted attempts at finding the location of the sword and spent his free time wallowing in his own self-pity.

Hermione didn't acknowledge Harry much throughout the first few days of Ron's absence. She would leave the tent regularly to collect some fish from near-by ponds and return hours later, not saying a word to the boy. Whether this was resentment or not, Harry took it as 'alone-time.' The majority of Harry's thoughts were based around the prospect that Hermione regretted choosing him over the red-head.

"Hermione?" Harry asked after five days of Ron's absence. She craned her neck to look up at him, peeling her eyes away from the page she had been staring at for twenty-five minutes.

"Yes?" Her voice was hoarse.

"Thanks," He mumbled, feeling suddenly awkward. Although it was a delicate subject, he felt he need to address it in order to accept the loss. "For staying," He continued quickly. "…you didn't have to, but you did. So, thanks." He coughed a bit. Hermione merely blinked.

"Of course I had to." She snapped. "There is no way I am going to leave you to complete this by yourself. Besides, I've got nowhere to return to, unlike…" Her voice trailed off suddenly, and her gaze returned to the book. She turned the page.

Although it had been a touchy subject, Harry felt that a bit of tension had been cleared by simply thanking her. The atmosphere improved, Hermione spoke more throughout the rest of the day, and the next morning her eyes weren't as puffy. It's odd how one element of comfort can change someone's appearance so drastically. She looked more like her old self now they were talking properly again; her hair wasn't as tatty, her expression was more inquisitive and the overall way she approached Harry was different.

"I'm sorry for being so morbid," She had said the day after Harry's thank you. "It wasn't personal, I promise. I don't blame you at all," She kindly added, squeezing Harry's hand as they huddled together outside the tent, both keeping guard. Although it was Harry's turn, he assumed Hermione was keeping him company to make up for her isolation over the past few days.

"I think we should move again tomorrow," He suggested to her. "We've been here three days now… it's time to go, I reckon."

"Yes," Hermione agreed quietly. "We'll go further south- it's getting incredibly cold." As if to proof her point, she shivered against him, before falling asleep on his shoulder.

According to Harry's second-hand watch, it was 12:20 at night, but it had been this dark for hours now. The temperature only seemed to turn colder, before Harry felt it necessary to carry Hermione back into bed so she didn't freeze.

Laying her softly down on the sheets, he totally disregarded the fact that it was almost Hermione's turn to guard the tent. For the first time since Ron had departed, Hermione had fallen asleep without one single sob echoing from her bed. Harry posed that this was because she had fallen asleep with him, but nevertheless, he felt it would be cruel to disturb her first night of peace.

The next morning, Harry woke from a dazed sleep to a tapping on his left shoulder. He turned to see Hermione frowning.

"That was my watch- you look frozen."

"I-I'm f-fine." He chattered, realising how cold he was. Hermione tapped him on the head with her wand and he felt a spread of warmth trickling all over him. "Thanks!" He said brightly, clambering to his feet. She smiled as he went to stand next to her, and together they disassembled the tent and stuffed into the girl's beaded bag.

The boys hand found the girl's, and with a turn of her feet, they vanished into thin air.

"_Protego totalum…_" Hermione had a real knack of instantly producing protective spells as soon as their feet touched the ground. They were on the edge of a lake- a lake that appeared heavily deserted.

Within minutes, the tent was standing firmly against the lake's border, and Hermione had caught several fish for the day's meals.

Despite her being more communicative, Harry couldn't help but notice Hermione's brief moments of sadness. He could only sympathize her longing to see Ron again with his longing to see Ginny. Every evening, Harry gazed at the marauders map, staring desperately at the boy's dormitory, eager to watch Ron's name appear on his bed. But it never did.

So he took to following Ginny's every movement. Observing her name wander into the great hall, into the classrooms, into the bathrooms, into her dormitory… it was comforting. Whilst he did this ritual, Hermione conversed vaguely with Phineus Nigellus' portrait, which often took asking about their location. There was only so many times she could refuse to answer before she snapped his painting back in the bag.

"Was he doing it again?" Harry asked lazily as Hermione's bag snapped shut. She nodded.

"It's so frustrating! I mean, no offense to you, Harry, but sometimes it's nice to speak to someone else for a change, and he ruins it," She complained. Harry wasn't offended for he agreed with her- no matter how much he loved Hermione, he longed to be able to speak to someone who wasn't her. Conversation topics were running thin, and both of them didn't have a clue where the sword could be placed. He simply appreciated her company for his own sanity at that moment.

In fact, Hermione felt the exact same. Harry was simply a beacon of positivity in her eyes- a symbol that she wasn't alone. Ron leaving had left her broken and torn into pieces, but Harry was comforting to her, because he understood. The two may crave the company of other people, but without each other, they'd be lost.

So when Hermione curled into a ball where Nigellus' portrait had been sat, the boy didn't retaliate at her complaint. Instead he turned the radio on, pulled the girl to her feet and began to dance.

For the first time in a week, Hermione laughed, amused by his atrocious dance movements, before joining in so they could dance together. It wasn't skilful, it was simply pleasant; their fingers were entwined, their bodies were close… the whole routine was oddly intimate.

Eventually they stopped dancing, and simply held each other, drowning out the music in the background. Hermione hadn't felt this connected with someone in what seemed like years, but for Harry it was even longer. The evident chemistry between Ron and Hermione had always left Harry feeling forgotten, but now Ron was gone, and it was just the two of them in each other's arms, both without their loved ones, seeking reassurance, having only the company of the other…

When they pulled out of the embrace, they simply stared at each other for a few moments, boring into the other's eyes and studying the connection between the pair. Their situations were incredibly similar, and both of them felt that the only person who really understood them was the person they were holding.

So Harry placed his palm on Hermione's cheek and sighed, because he understood completely. Although it was only the two of them for miles, no matter how lonely they felt in this depressive time, it was simply impossible for anything other than friendship to ever occur between the two of them. And he knew Hermione understood that, as she raised her hand to press it against Harry's, and smiled sadly.

They had each other for comfort and support. And that was enough.


	2. Hermione's worries

It had gotten to a point where it was so cold, it was impossible to sleep without one person awake, using spells to warm the other.

That arrangement was deeply impractical, for another person was needed to keep guard of the tent. But it had gotten to a point where neither of the two opted for keeping watch as it was a blizzard outside. They simply concluded that the south was just as bad as the north.

"H-Ha-Harry?" Hermione whispered through chattering teeth, not wanting to wake him. Fortunately he was already up, but was unwilling to move away from beneath his mountain of blankets.

"Yes?" He popped his eyes open to see her stood by his bed, her arms folded and her fingers trembling.

"I am s-so cold, I w-was…"

"Yes, you can sleep next to me," Harry granted, shuffling over to make room. Frankly, he could do with the extra body heat, so it was no hindrance having her join him in his bed. She snuggled into a tight ball and Harry did his best to warm her freezing body. Knowing it would only be temporary, he tapped her head with his wand to warm her through, just so she wasn't so icy.

"Thanks," She breathed, relaxing out of her cocoon-like state.

During the harsher climate, it became regular for Hermione to sleep next to Harry, both absorbing the heat off of each other. It was comforting for both of them as well- they both felt an illusion as though they were next to their significant other.

Harry noted that Hermione hadn't cried four nights into their routine, so her eyes were bright and back to normal. In fact, after sleeping well and a warm meal Hermione had pinched from a supermarket, Harry felt fit to pose the question he'd been asking for months.

"Hermione?" He spoke out to the girl lay next to him, minutes after their heads had touched the pillow.

"Mm?" She hummed softly.

"I was thinking…" His breath let out a wisp of smoke as he spoke. Clearing his throat as if to rid himself of the steam, he continued- "We should go to Godric's Hollow."

Hermione turned to her side so she could look at him- they lay face to face, huddled in the blankets. She looked oddly satisfied.

"Yes, yes I think so too."

Astounded, Harry gawked.

"Did you hear me right?" He spoke, aghast, watching his wisps of cold air disappear on Hermione's face.

"Yes I did. I think the sword has a strong connection to that place, and it would be wise to pay a visit."

Although that wasn't remotely the reason he wanted to pay the village a visit, he was happy he now had a valid excuse to do so.

"Yeah," He grinned. "I thought so too."

Hermione sighed and rolled on to her back.

"Of course you didn't, Harry." She gazed up at the ceiling. "You want to go to visit your parent's grave. I know I've always said it'd be too dangerous, but I just think… Gryffindor's sword, Godric Gryffindor, Godric's Hollow… it's got to be connected. It's _got_ to be." She finalised, her voice deep in thought. Harry stared at her, astounded by her logic and ability to see things Harry never even considered.

"You're right. When should we go?" He asked eagerly, thrilled at the prospect of finally doing something after two weeks of moping.

"I think we should go as soon as possible. Tomorrow evening? We'll have to use the last of the polyjuice potion as a precaution of course, and if we think anything looks a bit fishy we can go under the cloak…" But Harry drowned out the girls words as a flush of excitement boiled inside him. _He was going to visit his parents.  
_

Hermione had never set out to be much of a healer.

Of course, when Ron had splinched himself, she set to work with trembling hands, fully aware that she wasn't skilled at operating on vulnerable people. With her, it was more books and theory rather than actual practicality on wounds. So, she set out to use the only thing so felt safe using- Essence of Dittany.

However, she knew for a fact that that beloved remedy wouldn't heal Harry's condition. He was mentally aching- trapped in a tormenting sleep. Watching him moan and toss and turn in his bunk made her horribly uneasy, and she had spent four hours curled in a ball observing this insanity. She felt utterly helpless, and also guilty, she added, glancing down at the snapped wand pressed tightly in her palm.

She had enjoyed a quiet walk through the graveyard, observing all the snow and atmosphere of Christmas Eve. Of course for Harry it was more personal, with him searching for his parents. However what had enthralled her was the symbol on Ignotus' grave- a symbol that was inscribed into a book her old headmaster had granted her. Without the task of searching for her parents, she wandered aimlessly through the plaques, certain that the two of them were safe. When she did stumble upon James and Lily Potter's graves, she summoned Harry at once, who stood quite solemnly next to her. Out of respect, she didn't comment on the tears falling on his face, but simply held his hand to offer him some comfort. She then provided him with flowers- a simple incarnation which had finally proven useful.

It had been a pleasant night for Hermione; she felt reconnected with the outside world. But when Harry disappeared with 'Gaga' Bathilda up those stairs… everything seemed off.

Of course she didn't want to intrude on whatever was being discussed between the two upstairs. But she couldn't help but question what was going on with that hissing noise Bathilda was producing. Was she incapable of speaking? Had insanity driven her to loss of voice? _Not having a voice won't stop her from giving Harry the sword_, she thought to herself, relaxing a little.

And then she heard it. After picking up a book lying in the old woman's sitting room, Harry's voice screamed through the air, piercing every fibre in the young girl's body-

_"He's coming! Hermione, he's coming!"_

And then everything was a blur. She was upstairs, pulled aside by Harry, crashing across the bed, and a huge serpent hissed amongst the chaos of smashed shelves, Hermione was blind, she raised her wand at what she hoped to be the snake, screaming '_Confringo!' _

Everything exploded, glass smashed, wooden chips flew out in every direction- shards of all materials cascaded over the two tenagers, the snake was missing, they were bleeding from glass slices, Harry dragged her out of the upstairs window and they leapt into the night, spinning into oblivion…

They landed on a field. Thankfully a deserted one, else Harry's screams would have caused quite a disturbance. His yells pierced the silence and birds scattered in fear, and Hermione dropped his hand watching him fall to the floor, horrified at his condition. He writhed and twisted on the grass, oblivious to the young girl's tears… she didn't know what to do.

Attempting to drown out his moans and screams, she set to work, propping up the tent with trembling hands, abandoning all attempts at clearing up her own physical wounds. The tent stood firm within seconds, and she hover charmed Harry on to their bunk, watching his screams dissolve into cracked yelps, and then into groans. He was sweating a river yet shivering, all the girl could do was tap his head repeatedly and provide him with warmth.

Once she had stopped shaking, she set to work immediately. Cleaning his wounds with her blessed dittany, he physically recovered immediately. But the horcrux simply wouldn't detach itself from Harry's skin.

Heartbroken that she had to inflict more pain upon the demented boy, she, regretfully, cast a severing charm on his chest, which tore the locket away from the boy's chest. She was sure he wouldn't feel it; his scar must be inflicting enough pain to level the cruciatus curse, she hazarded.

The next four hours had been spent with her sat cautiously away from Harry, observing his every whimper, his every moan, his every thrash. Every few minutes she would use a sponge to wipe the sweat off his face. There was nothing comical about the situation. It was haunting- this was a sight Hermione doubted she'd ever forget in her future life.

After what felt like an agonising eternity, Harry's mumbles turned into English, and he was producing the word 'no'. The girl jumped to her feet, rushed over and smoothed down his face again, wanting him to feel more relaxed as he woke.

"Harry, it's all right, you're all right!" She soothed, brushing the sponge over his forehead. He muttered strange words… _'I dropped it' _he repeated. Dropped what? "Harry, it's OK, wake up, wake up!" She added, more hastily now, desperate to free him from this torture. Harry's eyelids finally flung open, and Hermione had never been so relieved to see the pair of striking green eyes.

After a few moments of conversation about the events, Harry removed his t-shirt to stare down at the gash across his skin.

"I'm sorry," Hermione spoke feebly, looking down. "I had to use a severing charm to get it away."

Harry reached to hug her, but felt that as he was dripping with sweat, he thought it best to leave her untouched. After grumbled apologies about regretting going to Godric's Hollow, and discussing Hermione's confusion about how the snake had appeared, the topic turned to Harry's wand.

"Mend it. Please." That was all Harry said as the broken fragments fell into his palm. She had tried over and over again whilst he was unconscious, but it hadn't worked each time, so she was simply humouring Harry as she cast '_Reparo'_ on his wand. As it had been doing so the past ten times, it simply fell apart after the simplest incarnation.

"I'm going to shower," Harry spoke, his voice extremely flat. Ignoring the girl's tears, he flung the covers off of him and walked over to the bathroom, adding a small "I'll keep watch once I'm done" to his departure.


	3. Sword and locket

Hermione had only visited the Forest of Dean once in her life, but it was a camping trip she held dear to her heart. It was a place invested with wildlife, and as she had always loved watching the animals, her parents had allowed her to sit and observe the on-goings of the creatures deep into the forest.

She had long hoped that they wouldn't have to end up here, for it would tarnish the perfect mental image she had preserved in her mind's eye. What was once a magical jungle of animals and creatures, with thick green leaves shimmering in the wildlife, was now an icy hell; intent on freezing every inhabitant in the depths of the forest. It broke her heart to tarnish her favourite memory… but need's must, she concluded.

After offering Harry a hot cup of tea and pledging her apologies repeatedly, he had made it very clear to her that he understood it was an accident. But the guilt swarming in her stomach was impossible to ignore; it consumed her. Admittedly, she had hoped that offering Harry the biography of their old headmaster Albus Dumbledore would be a reasonable excuse to speak to him, but she now felt that it had simply worsened the matters. Harry had grown furious upon reading the truth of his old teacher, and Hermione had provided him with the source. He had yelled words of anger about how lost he felt, leaving Hermione tear-stained and heartbroken. With Ron gone and Harry so furious, she felt lonelier than ever.

So the morning after Harry's furious outburst, they had packed their belongings and dissaparated into Hermione's favourite memory. Frankly, they were running out of places to go. This lead them to prolong their stay at the Forest of Dean, both unsure of where to go next.

Hermione had insisted that Harry lie down and rest, but he remained firm; he wanted to keep watch. So, she followed his orders and went into bed.

But she couldn't sleep. She was far too engrossed in _The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore_, re-reading the same letter over and over again. She couldn't quite place what was so drawing about the vile letter… something she assumed that had to be read in between the lines. Hermione was a bright girl; she could sense there was more to this letter than appeared.

But then she spotted it. After hours of reading it, turning a few pages, then turning back- totally captivated- she spotted it. Replacing the capital 'A' on Albus' name was… could it be…?

"Harry?" Hermione called, her voice cracking though lack of use. No response. "Harry?" She repeated. He shouldn't be asleep whilst on watch, so she settled to carry him on to his bunk (they were able to sleep separate now they had adjusted to the cold temperatures) and keep watch herself. But when she got to the entrance, she found it utterly deserted.

Her stomach felt like a thousand hands began to squeeze at it. "Harry?" She tried again, her voice higher in volume and pitch. The night was completely black, Harry was gone… she had no wand to find him…

What had happened to him? Had he been discovered and kidnapped? Killed and transfigured into a rock? Decided to go off for a night-time stroll into the darkness? The list was endless; Hermione began to panic.

_ She didn't even have her wand! _Cursing herself for letting Harry's get blown up, she tried to rummage around for a small torch her father had owned- she had, luckily, packed it in case of a time like this.

Although the light source was usually highly inept, the contrast between the beam and the darkness was utterly striking. The light revealed a trail of thick footsteps in the snow- feet that she prayed to be Harry's. Following the trail, she crossed her fingers, praying he was alright.

She followed the feet imprints for minutes, praising herself for bringing the torch her father once owned. Her stomach squeezed again- not for Harry, but for her parents.

Hermione's father's hands had once held this torch, and his feet had probably touched the ground she was walking on, too. This place was so personal to her- it was a place where she and her parents had adored a weekend of simplicity. Knowing that her mother and father were in Australia, probably happy not knowing they had a daughter, churned Hermione's insides every day. She longed to see them once more- they had had so many close calls that the teenage girl had often truly believed she would never look at the two of them again. But being here made her feel so connected to her parents and though she'd never admit it to Harry, she hadn't been crying over the guilt of snapping his wand.

The trail of footsteps stopped, but the sound of thrashing water replaced it.

Flicking the torch to the right, she stumbled across a pond; a very pale boy with dark hair was thrashing around in its depths.

"HARRY!" She screamed, though she doubted he could hear her. Spotting her own wand lain on Harry's dry clothes, she scooped it up and without thinking, dived into the pool herself.

The cold didn't impact her so much as she thought it would, but her adrenaline had kicked in. Spotting the fact that the horcrux had trapped the boy in the water, she reused the severing charm to cut him free and watched him hurl himself to the water's surface, dragging something long and shiny to the top with him. Clinging to her wand and the horcrux with her dear life she followed in his path, pushing Harry with all the strength onto the surface and hauling herself over with a huge push.

Now the cold hit her- the water had left her soaked in what felt like the depths of frozen hell, as if she had been encased in a life-size ice cube.

_"Acc-Accio towels!" _She trembled, raising her arm off the floor to produce the incarnation. The two teenagers lay flat next to the pond, both shivering and frozen, incapable of passing conversation. A rustle through the trees meant that two towels were soaring over to the teenagers, and seconds later, they landed into Hermione's hands with a light _thump_.

Scrambling to Harry's aid, she flung the towels in his direction, wrapping him up tightly in one, rubbing his hair completely dry with the other.

"Are you m-mad? Use one your-s-self!" He told her, aghast. She shook her head wildly, desperately warming the boy through, and as soon as all the water was soaked into the towels, she used her wand to cast the warming spell over his body.

Repeating the gesture, Harry freed himself of the towels and engulfed them over Hermione. The simple charm was a life safer- he had never appreciated the use of his fingers and toes so much in his life. Dry and warm, he clung onto Hermione, desperately trying to exhort as much body heat as he could onto the drenched girl. She was shivering like mad, her lips were trembling, and he rubbed the towels through her hair as she stood frozen.

"Hermione, the charm won't work through those clothes," He told her firmly, gesturing to the soaked layers she wore on her skin. A few months ago in the cave, Dumbledore had used a simple incarnation to dry not only Harry, but also his clothes… if only he knew the spell…

"It…it's o-okay…" She trembled, huddling into the towels which were wrapped so tightly around her, her figure was outlined perfectly, despite the excessive layers. "P…put your clo…clothes on th-then take me b-back to the tent…" She continued through her chattering teeth, but Harry simply picked his belongings up carefully in his hands before hurrying Hermione back to their camp.

He threw his pile of layers onto the floor before hurrying Hermione over to the fire. Her trembling fingers had managed to remove some of her soaking layers whilst Harry focused on making the tent as warm as possible, leaving her wearing simply a pair of thin shorts and a strappy top, both plastered to her skin.

Harry used the girl's wand to tap her head.

"Thanks," She breathed, flexing her hands and toes. "Why the hell did you jump into that freezing pond?" She snapped, a flush of colour creeping into her cheeks. The charm had managed to mostly dry the two pieces of clothing she now wore, but her hair was still drenched and plastered to her face. With the sudden rush of getting Hermione to her safety, Harry had completely forgotten his original endeavour.

"Oh!" So he plunged into the tale, explaining how a silver doe had appeared before him and had led him to a pond, a pond which held the sword of Gryffindor (Hermione gasped when he pointed to it in the corner.)

"But how did it get here? And who cast that patronus?" She questioned, but Harry shrugged.

"No idea. But we can destroy the locket, finally…" He grinned, Hermione returning it, no longer chattering her teeth.

"Who should do it?"

"I think… you." Harry sighed. The girl's eyes narrowed.

"Why?" She spoke, confused.

"You saved my life, you cut the horcrux free from me… thank you, by the way," He added, but Hermione waved her hand to say '_don't worry about it'_.

"Are you sure?" The girl added uneasily, gazing at the locket that lay on Harry's pile of clothes before drifting her sight to the sword propped up next to it. "I don't feel like I can…"

"No," Harry said firmly. "I did the diary, you do the locket. That's one each then… grab the sword," He told her. Hermione stood up, her clothes relatively dry now, and picked up the sword. Harry followed her and sat next to the locket.

"Okay… I'm going to open the locket. Then you need to immediately stab it, okay? It will probably put up a fight… the diary tried to kill me."

Hermione nodded, feeling her heart race with dread. What defences would this locket put up? But before Hermione even raised the sword to use it, Harry was hissing to the horcrux, and it flung open, revealing horrors.

"STAB IT!" Harry yelled, but Hermione was unprepared. Gazing at the sight before her, she fell to her knees, the sword hung loosely from her grip. Ron had transformed out of the locket, towering over the sunken girl.

But it wasn't the Ron she remembered… it was a ghostly figure, with red, blazing eyes and sharp teeth, a wicked smile smothered over his face. Even Harry staggered back at the impact Ron's figure had over him- Hermione was dumbfounded.

"_Pathetic_," The ghostly Ron spat at the girl, with a shocking imitation of the boy's real voice. "_I left you- I never wanted you. But you see me and fall to the floor? Pathetic," _It repeated. As though it was capable of flying, Ron floated towards Hermione and began to circle her, leaving a trail of smoke behind it, spitting words into her face. "_Look at your parents…_" It gestured to the locket, and two figures appeared from the smoke it was producing, both laughing and beaming at a baby boy clutched in their arms. "_They don't remember you… they never will… they have moved on, idiot girl; they have created a new family… you will never know them again…_"

And then a fifth figure stepped out of the locket. Brushing past Hermione's parents and the un-named baby boy, Harry Potter floated towards the real Hermione and slurred into her face.

"_I wish you had gone instead of Ron," _The Horcrux-Harry crooned into her ear. "_You are so dull to talk to… I only want you for your brains, I'm so _sick_ of you crying all of the time… why couldn't Ginny have come, instead of you?_"

It was utterly bizarre. Harry lay next to Hermione, watching Ron and himself taunt the poor girl, and her parents laughed at the baby boy they clutched so dearly into their arms.

"_I'd be better without you, you filthy mudblood._" The Horcrux-Harry hissed, and Ron laughed manically-

It was all over. Hermione was on her knees panting at the destroyed locket laid in front of her, her fingers clasped around the sword's handle.

Shaking, she released her grip and the sword fell to the floor with a loud _thud_. She seemed incapable of moving. Harry clambered to his feet, walked over to her and pressed his palm on her shaking shoulder.

"It's alright, it's alright…" Harry breathed into her ear as she wrapped her arms around him, sobbing into his shoulder. He had no idea what to say to her to offer her comfort; Harry felt scarred by what he had witnessed, and it hadn't even been aimed at him. He kissed the top of her head softly, and shushed her as she wept into his bare shoulders. Hermione's hair was still damp, but Harry knew she wasn't shaking due to the cold.

It seemed Hermione didn't care that Harry was mostly naked- she was so distraught by the images she had just seen, she spent ten minutes holding him and trembling in his arms. The boy rubbed her back soothingly, repeating the words '_It wasn't real… relax…_'

Hermione pulled away from him slowly with very puffy eyes, her face red and blotchy.

"I'm going to bed," She spoke quietly, clambering to her feet and heading to her bunk, leaving Harry Potter sat quite alone and lost for words.


	4. The jungle

A/N: Sorry it's taken so long! I've been so busy revising for French:c

This is a total different chapter to the book, so I hope you find it interesting:')

Although Harry was desperate to bring Hermione back to life again, he didn't feel as though he had much of a chance. Hermione had been broken when Ron walked out on her, but she wasn't fixed completely when the Horcrux had unleashed it's ruthlessness onto her; it had shattered her completely.

Every morning after Ron's departure, Hermione had at least bid Harry a good morning, and occasionally asked him how he was. But now she didn't speak to him. Hermione was usually a fighter, but the Horcrux had won this match.

Lost for words, Harry kept to himself as well. He wasn't quite sure how to comfort her; he knew too well that he was the last person she wanted to see right now. Ron had appeared right in front of her eyes, followed by her parents- obviously she wanted to see them more than him.

Ron had been astounding. Even Harry had been aghast at the sudden, yet false, reappearance of his former best friend. Despite being made entirely of smoke and Horcrux, he had looked convincingly physical. Maybe that's why Hermione was so unnerved- she hadn't seen a real life Ron for so long, nor her real life parents for even longer.

It was impossible for Harry to compare Hermione's Horcrux experience with his own, for they had totally differed. Her's had been more personal, more victimising, whereas his had physically tried to murder not only him but the love of his life. He couldn't settle on which was worse; Ginny Weasley almost dying thanks to a memory of Tom Riddle, or Hermione having to spend the rest of their quest thinking about how her parents had started another family without her. Of course, there was always the possibility that the Horcrux had made it up… but the diary had its own way of finding out information. Why shouldn't the locket?

Hermione's solitude lasted for three days, before she cleared her throat after a shower. Harry's neck snapped up and he couldn't help but release a wide grin- _she was finally communicating_.

"Yes?" Grinned Harry, beaming as Hermione returned a faint smile.

"I'd… well… I'd like to visit my parents." She cleared her throat again. Harry's smile faltered. "Because you visited yours, so I think it's fair," She continued, her voice growing stronger. Harry frowned.

"Hermione, they don't remember you…"

"I know that." She snapped. "But yours are in their graves, I'm sorry but it's true, so I think it would be nice to just see them, not necessarily speak to them, just see them." There were a million flaws in this prospect which Harry would have loved to use as an excuse to refuse it, but he felt obliged to humour her. After all, she had caved into visiting Godric's Hollow… which had been a mistake…

"Hermione, visiting Godric's Hollow was a huge mistake. We almost got killed and I lost my wand."

"Yes, but my parents are in the middle of Australia, completely safe!"

"Exactly! How will we find them?"

"I have their address of course," She said briskly. "I would obviously need it for when I lift the memory charm." Clearly she had given a lot of thought to her side of the argument.

"Can we even internationally apparate?"

"Yes," She said simply.

"To the opposite end of the world?"

"Yes!"

"What if we get splinched?"

"There's always that risk Harry, no matter the distance."

"What if they see you and remember?"

"It's a strong charm."

"What if-"

"What's your problem, Harry? You saw your parents so I'd like to see mine."

"It's just…" Harry bit his lip and scratched at his head. "Last time was such a mistake. I have a bad feeling about this one."

"Please Harry," She pleaded. If things hadn't been going so awfully for the girl stood in front of him, he'd have held his ground and refused. But just one perk… then they were even…

"Alright," He exhaled. "But we stick to each other, okay?"

"Of course," Hermione hurried, but she didn't look as happy as Harry had been when he had found out they were going to visit his deceased parents. He supposed that an element of worry was churning away at her insides; she'd possibly collapse if the Horcrux was true and her parents had replaced her. That was most probably the reason for her hasty decision, he concluded.

So two hours later, the pair of them had showered, dried, dressed, packed and were ready to go. Harry couldn't help but find himself panicking about severely splinching himself, picturing half of his body in England, the rest on the other side of the world.

"There shouldn't be any death eaters; they're well hidden in the outskirts. Our main concern is to not be bitten by any poisonous spiders."

Thinking of Nagini's venom, Harry replied; "I think we'll be alright," with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Hermione's hand found Harry's, squeezed it lightly, before they both dissolved into nothingness.

"It worked!" Harry exclaimed, examining his ten fingers, ten fingernails and overall complete body.

"Sh!" Hermione ushered. Falling silent, Harry scanned the thick of the trees, thinking he was in some sort of jungle… he'd never been to Australia before, but he never had imagined it so thick with trees and wild life.

The first thing he noticed was that it was sweltering hot. Harry had adjusted to the freezing temperatures of England, so being thrown into an opposing climate was a huge reality check. Harry quickly removed all of his layers, shrunk them and shoved them into Hermione's beaded bag whilst she did the same. As soon as they were both stood in shorts and a light t-shirt, they headed off down the path way.

Hermione's palm was clinging to Harry's, tugging him along in different directions along the pathway.

"Okay so it was left here…" They took a left. "Straight on, to the second right…" She kept muttering to herself. "Here!" She breathed finally.

It was quite a normal, modern house, set awkwardly in the midst of a jungle. Moderately small with a tiny car squashed in the front of it, it seemed the perfect place for a couple to move into. The houses surrounding it were very spaced out; it had taken them ages to walk up to the correct one.

"I chose this place because it's easy to get lost in it. That way we can use it as an excuse to talk to them. Also, it's very Australian, being in the jungle, so it fit's the story."

"Hermione, are you sure about this?" She nodded once, biting her lip.

"There're only five other houses in this part of jungle; any further and it's inhabitable. The closest shop is a ten minute drive away… no one would think they'd live here." Turning to face her, he realized she didn't appear so certain. Whether her lip was trembling through doubt or general fear, he didn't know, but he pulled her into a hug and she threw her arms around him.

"I don't know how to look them in the eye without falling to pieces," Hermione groaned.

"I'll do all the talking," Harry soothed her. "You stand at the back and smile- I'll try and find out everything I can. It'll be okay,"

After nodding into his shoulder, she pulled away, still keeping his hand gripped firmly on hers. Harry took a deep breath, approached the door with Hermione in tow and rang the doorbell.

After seven seconds, Hermione's father opened the door, and Harry heard her gasp behind him. Squeezing her hand softly, he began to speak.

"Hello," He started. "We were just wondering if you could give us directions to the nearest shop; we've just visited some family and got a bit lost on the way out." Harry laughed without humour; he too was stunned by the re-appearance of Hermione's dad.

He was exactly how Harry had remembered him, with Hermione's nose and chin; he even still held his posture as she did. His teeth were brilliantly white; Harry recalled he used to be a dentist. Whether he still carried that profession abroad, Harry didn't know. But one thing he did know was that the only thing different about this man was where he now lived and that he no longer went by the name 'Granger'.

"Ah, British people, too!" He beamed. "We just moved here a few months ago; hoping to lose the accent soon, mind," Hermione laughed but quickly fell quiet, realizing that that wasn't remotely funny. Harry guessed it was just nerves. "I'm afraid I can't help you, I'm naff at directing, but I'm sure the wife will help you- MON?" He yelled. Turning behind him, he saw Hermione look slightly confused at him referring to his wife as 'Mon', but she recovered straight away.

"Oh, it's alright-" Harry began, but Hermione stamped on his foot.

A very Hermione-esque woman popped up from the side of the door.

"Yes?" She spoke to her husband.

"Could- could you direct us to the st-store?" Hermione stammered before letting out a soft grin. Her mother's eyes rose in surprise; she had obviously picked up on her similar characteristics. Whatever she noticed, however, she brushed aside, and simply gave them a quick shortcut to the exit.

"Thank you," Harry smiled.

"You two should think about moving here, it's lovely for couples." Mrs Granger smiled. "Although, I wouldn't bother if you two were starting a family, it's ridiculous to have kids here!" She laughed, and Hermione laughed a similar laugh in return, her expression relaxing.

"They aren't thinking of moving here, sweetie, they just got lost on the way out after visiting family," Mr Granger informed his wife. "Well, I'm glad we could help- have a safe journey back to England!"

As Harry and Hermione turned to walk away hand in hand, they heard the front door close softly behind them.

"How do you feel?" He asked her cautiously; it was safe to talk to her now they were out of ear shot. She smiled weakly.

"If anything, I feel awful walking away from them again." She sighed. "But I'm glad they haven't had another child… that would've been a disaster…"

"You really miss them don't you?" Harry asked her. She frowned up at him.

"Of course I do, they're my parents." She snapped. "I thought they'd be so different… I can't believe how similar they are…"

"I think they spotted how much you resembled them," Harry spoke darkly.

"Oh, I know," She gave a sheepish grin in return. "Worth it though, I think."

"I guess."

"Thank you for this, Harry," Hermione granted him. They were just on the outskirts of their first turning point. After scanning around them to check that no one was watching them, Harry turned on the foot and dragged Hermione into a tight elastic band, hearing her let out a slight sob as they travelled back to England.


End file.
